In These Other Moments
by The Skye Skye
Summary: Moments between a man and his demon...
1. Chapter 1

_**A disease of the mind...**_

Darkness pulsed all around him, rocking him like a rhythm coming through night club speakers. It buzzed and hummed, vibrating him to his core. This darkness was the person who was deeply embedded in his mind. This darkness was the demon that was gripping him tight, thrusting inside him, making him scream, making him wail for more. The darkness clawed at his skin and licked at the open wounds on his flesh. The darkness filled every single one of his senses, taking over him. It was an all-consuming, unbearably confusing, and incredibly delectable feeling… To be so completely swallowed up by a darkness so much bigger than his own.

All the empty corners inside him were suddenly full to bursting, pleasurable tingles and tremors pressing against his senses as he succumbed and fell into this lips were parted with his heavy breathing, his head tipped back in ecstasy. The pure and vehement want that draped itself over him made every single inch of sweaty skin scream for more. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, his body feeling like it was floating in water, so light but so heavy, and so out of his control. The overpowering desire inside him was like a beast, clawing it's way up his chest and out of his throat, leaving his lips in loud and unintelligible one word demands. His demands were met with enthusiasm. The darkness was providing, touching, tasting, and claiming him. Sam felt something akin to a sob leave his throat. He belonged to the darkness…  
He needed this. He was trapped inside this. There was nothing else. Just the darkness all over him, and the emptiness inside him.  
He gave another heady out-cry, the name of his present darkness leaving his lips over and over.  
Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.

_**Paradise...**_

There was no such thing as an awkward silence anymore. Every moment that passed seemed to be filled with screaming these days. Fighting, yelling, begging for mercy, for life, for divine intervention, for anything that wasn't a blood soaked battle field or the cold edge of a knife. Every waking moment was spent yelling, arguing, pacing and shouting. Sam had never known such exhaustion could exist in this sad and heavy world. He found that his breath was just leaving his lungs in shaky, heavily forced rasps. His body collapsed onto the floor of his motel room as soon as the door was shut. His weary legs could move no farther, and hold his body up any longer. He closed his eyes as the carpet rushed up to meet him and burned against his cheek. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He'd left Dean behind at the bar to celebrate what could hardly be called a win, favoring the idea of a warm shower and fresh crisp sheets… But he didn't make it that far. He was on the floor, soaking in the quiet. Quiet that was really not as quiet as he could have hoped for. There was still the din of the outside world. Cars rumbling noisily down the roads, the laughter of drunk friends stumbling down sidewalks, the bang of a headboard in the next room… Sam gave a feeble groan. This was so uncomfortable, unpleasant, and yet… He didn't have the strength to fight it. He merely let it all just wash over him.

"Just when I thought I'd seen the most pathetic thing in the world… I stumble across this…"  
He barely heard the softness of that voice coming from the other side of the motel room. It was full of gentle and sad affection, gently soothing Sam with it's familiar English intonations. He moved his cheek across the carpet as he turned his head to look toward his bed. There perched on the end of the bed, looking just about as much a mess as Sam felt, was Crowley. His suit was mussed and torn, his face flushed with exertion from some kind of fight, and his body was slumping. Sam was used to seeing Crowley holding himself so aloofly, but in these times when everyone was out to get him, Sam didn't blame Crowley for slouching. He didn't blame him in the least. Crowley had put himself on the line in hopes of helping them defeat the devil, and had been paying for it every minute since. Sam, with intense struggle, pushed himself up from the carpet some, only to find himself being dragged up a split second later by the demon.

Crowley pulled him up, and with minimal struggled, carried him to the bed, like his hulking form was light as a feather. He smiled softly, at the careful way Crowley laid him in the bed. Despite his clear exhaustion, Crowley took the time to help Sam take off his shoes and belt and jeans, finally, with careful precision, Crowley even unbuttoned Sam's shirt and helped him wriggled out of that confining fabric. Sam watched as Crowley shucked off his ruined suit jacket and pulled his tie loose, tossing it to the floor. He took a seat, heavily, on the edge of the bed beside Sam and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know why I keep doing things for you…" Crowley said quietly, giving a soft sigh as he felt Sam's hand run up his back, gently caressing his hunched spine. Sam pulled Crowley's shirt free of the waist band of his pants, untucking it completely so he could slide his fingers beneath the fabric and touch the demon's warm skin. Crowley opened his mouth, taking a breath.

"You know this is getting out of hand Sam…"

"Shut up." came Sam's hoarse reply. "Just stop… Stop talking…"

Crowley let the room fall silent, simply listening to the rustle of the fabric of his shirt as Sam's cool hand caressed his back soothingly, up and down, a very simply, yet very comforting motion. The silence was tense for a bit, but it didn't last. The awkward silence melted away into one of comfortableness. It was warm and familiar, and as Sam began to doze off, his hand slid down Crowley's back and dropped to the mattress, his eyes slipping shut. Crowley sighed a little as he heard Sam's breathing evening out, and he turned his body a bit, looking down at the sleeping figure in the bed. He felt his lips twitching with the urge to smile, but he held it back, and leaned down, kissing Sam's lips softly.

"Goodnight Sam…"

And then the demon vanished.

_**Word's we couldn't say...**_

It made Crowley's skin crawl to look at Sam's body and only see Lucifer. The angel wore Sam well, like he was an expensive Armani suit, carrying him with purpose and an air of undeserved dignity. Crowley was laying, sprawled across the devil's trap, trembling from head to toe with pain. Lucifer simply flicked his finger back and forth and wrenched every nerve in Crowley's body, causing him unbelievable amounts of pain.

The days had begun to blur together, laying here, on this floor, never eating, hardly sleeping, and every day Lucifer came to torture him. Lucifer took the time out of his busy schedule to attend to Crowley's torture personally. He was glad to do it, because who better than him? Just looking at Lucifer made Crowley uncomfortable, this much was true. The reasons why however, were skewed. Sometimes he just hated looking at him because he knew he was an angel, but other times he hated it because when he looked at Lucifer he thought of Sam… The Sam he'd known personally, intimately, and better than what they'd let Dean know... He had to shut his eyes, and fight to block it all out and think back... Back to a different time. The whole reason he'd ended up here in the first place was Sam... It had always been Sam... From the moment their lips first touched and their bodies made that utterly carnal connection, Crowley knew that this fate of his was sealed.

However he didn't regret the ride any less. He wished he could have told Sam that he forgave him for saying yes. He wished he could hold Sam by the fireplace and stroke his hair one last time. He wished that he had never met Sam sometimes, but mostly, he wished that Sam was free of that nasty angel riding around in his skin like he owned it. As Lucifer tore into his flesh with a Cat of Nine tails, he gripped the concrete below him with his fingertips, cursing this universe and everything it stood for. Beyond the screaming of the Croats outside, and beyond his own howls of pain, he could hear approaching footsteps and feel a familiar presence. Lucifer cackled and kicked Crowley hard in the gut.

"Sounds like the Cavalry has arrived... Can you feel him Crowley? Can you feel the other Winchester... Your last hope is here to meet his demise..."

Lucifer was so smug in his dark laughter as he cracked his neck, preparing to destroy Dean, whom he liked to consider Crowley's only hope of ever escaping him... Crowley coughed his own blood out onto the devil's trap for what felt like the millionth time and managed a hoarse and humorless laugh of his own.

_"You're wrong..." _Crowley responded confidently, stopping Lucifer in his trek for the door. The angel spun his head around and narrowed his eyes at the sloppy pile of demon on the floor that had once been Crowley.

"I said... _You're wrong._.. Sam is still in there... And as long as he is... There is hope..." Crowley hissed. "He may be buried deep, but one day, the words I never said before will reach him... He'll hear it and he'll fight you... And the best part is... _You'll lose_... Because when Sam loves someone... He overcomes every obstacle and does whatever it takes to protect them..."

Lucifer's face pulled into an impossibly evil scowl, and he spat at the floor in Crowley's direction with venom and disregard.

"What makes you think that he loves you at all...?" Lucifer snapped back coldly. Crowley pushed himself to his feet, swooning a little, but he met Lucifer's eyes.

"Because... Even though they went unspoken... We could always feel the words we could not say..."

~Fin


	2. Chapter 2

_**Introduction**_

To say that they'd gotten off on the wrong foot, would have be a monumental understatement. The snarky demon had simply dismissed any intelligence Sam had, and waved him off as if he were some kind of moronic country bumpkin. Sam had taken deep offense to this. He appreciated art, fine literature, and intelligent conversation. Being called 'Moose' certainly wasn't a nickname that reflected that. So Sam brooded. He withdrew into himself and obsessed over it. He was the _smart brother. _Dean watched it all, he watched Sam's demented obsession with being taken seriously push his better judgment aside. Sam wasn't going to take this one in the chops just because Crowley could likely rip his spine out without breaking a sweat…

"Where are you going?" Dean inquired, a brow raised in curiosity as he watched Sam exchange his flannel and plaid for a nice dress shirt to go with his jeans. "You got a hot date that I don't know about Sammy?"

Dean's voice was pure condescension and his full lips were quirked into an impossibly smug grin. Sam rolled his eyes at his overly cocky big brother and pulled on his jacket.

"Piss off." Sam said quietly, in no mood to feed into Dean's taunting. Dean watched Sam's shoulders tense a little as he headed for the door. "I'm taking the impala!"

Dean laughed a little, shaking his head, not bothering to reply since the door to their dingy motel room had already snapped shut. Dean didn't mind, he knew Sam would be able to handle taking care of himself for a little while, in the mean time, he decided to watch Casa Erotica 3 on Pay per view. Sam drove back out of town, making his way to Crowley's rather large estate once more. He told himself he needed to just make a good impression, never once wondering just why this demon's opinion mattered so damn much…

_**Love **_

Sam hadn't thought it possible. His cheeks were burning red as Crowley gazed at him with an all too familiar smugness. The demon's eyes were alight with mischief and he chuckled softly.

"Don't look so surprised Sammy… Think of all I went through for you, and tell me deep down, you didn't already know…" Crowley said, almost teasingly. Sam shook his head, his fingers twitching a little before he gripped the lapels of Crowley's jacket, pulling him up into a swift kiss. Their lips melded together in a soft and slow kiss, parting to give tongues access. Sam indulged in the feel of Crowley's tongue and gave in to what he wanted deep beneath the surface. It was true. Crowley had lost everything during the apocalypse. He'd become Hell's most wanted for trying to help Sam and Dean put the devil back in his cage. Sam hadn't really thought anything of it when Crowley had come to them, frustrated and distraught as he gave them a glimpse of what he was going through. Demons had been after him, chased him to the ends of the earth, and even now, he struggled. Sam broke away from the kiss and rested his forehead against Crowley's, sighing softly as he spoke up to respond.

"I think I love you too…"

_**Light**_

Crowley's life was filled with darkness. Darkness inside and out. He lived off of the darkness and greed in peoples hearts, and watched it tear them apart. He traded souls and sent them to hell for eternity in return for ten mediocre years of physical happiness that often times came up much shorter than what was bargained for. He took trips to hell on a regular basis, watched souls get tortured and torn to shreds. He was attacked and hunted by his own kind. He was darkness and he lived in darkness… But despite all his darkness, there was a light.

There was a light in his life that shone brighter than the sun. This light was a person who had held him tight and made him remember what it meant to be human. This light was Sam Winchester. Some may have looked at Sam as the darker of the Winchester brothers, but when Crowley looked at him, spoke to him, and laid with him night after night, all he felt was warmth and all he saw was the brightness of his soul. Crowley was free to roam in his darkness all he wanted… As long as he had Sam, it would never be hard to find his light again…

_**The Quiet Awake…**_

Crowley leaned up against the pillows propped against the headboard of a squeaky bed in a no name motel room. Sam was sort of stretched across the demon's stomach, one arm draped lazily over Crowley's bare hips, and his head nestled against the demon's chest.Sam's eyes drifted shut as he listened to Crowley's heart beat. The rhythm had slowed down considerably since they'd first hit the bed hours ago. Now, with the sheets covering their naked bodies, they were relaxed. Crowley let Sam curl against him, not bothering to push him away though he wasn't one for post-coital cuddling, he liked the way Sam's body felt against his. He gently ran his fingertips up and down Sam's spine, while his other hand busied putting a fag between his lips to be lit. He needed the smoke and the nicotine; they helped him release tension considerably. Not to mention they helped sooth his frayed nerves after a good shag like this one.

Sam took a deep breath and Crowley glanced down at him, exhaling smoke slowly from his nose. Sam looked up and watched the gray swirls dance up into the air and dissipate. In the silvery moonlight, Crowley's face was cast half into shadow. Sam wanted to smile but, he didn't. He just studied Crowley's tired expression, the way he lifted that cigarette to his lips and took drag after drag, the cherry lighting up and glowing red with each strong inhale.

"We can't keep doing this…" Sam whispered. "Dean's gonna find out…"

Crowley gave a half amused chuckle, shaking his head as he puffed on his cigarette again. The very idea of Dean's reaction to the discovery of this was one that would go beyond catastrophic.

"He'd slice me up like a Christmas Ham if he caught us together… He didn't like you playing with Ruby. I imagine despite my helping you two, he'd like me even less… But I'm not inclined to stop for his sake…" Crowley replied quietly, snubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray on the night stand. Crowley's tone was unreadable, and his expression was calm and very serious. Sam leaned up, pressing a kiss to the demon's parted lips, his tongue sliding in to taste the smoke in his mouth. Crowley's hand slid up Sam's back to cup the back of his head, holding him in that kiss. It was soft and sweet, their lips moving gently, and their tongue caressing affectionately in favor of their usual passionate and hard kisses. When Sam broke away he looked into Crowley's eyes with a sort of fearful longing. He wanted this to go on forever.

"I know you're not… But if you want to keep doing this…" Crowley raised a brow and cut Sam's sentence short.

"I was under the impression that you wanted to keep doing this as well Sammy. Don't tell me I was wrong in thinking so…" Crowley whispered, a slight hint of taunting in his tone. Sam let the words hang in the air for a moment, frowning a little and then he nodded.

"Of course I do… I do… I want to…" Sam said, leaning in and resting his head against Crowley's collar. "But… For now I want to… Keep things quiet…"

Sam's body tensed as the minutes passed and Crowley said nothing in response. Sam lifted his head again, looking into Crowley's eyes. Crowley looked regretful, a little distant, but when he saw Sam gazing up at him he nodded and rubbed his shoulders reassuringly.

"All right Sammy. It'll be our little secret…" Crowley agreed, watching Sam as relief washed over him. The hunter visibly relaxed and Crowley was content for the time being. After all… This was the closest thing he'd had to happiness in a long while…

_**Dark**_

Since a very young age, Sam had always been drawn to the darkness. He could feel it when it stirred inside him, and he knew it was always a part of who he was. When he found out it was in his very blood, he wasn't exactly surprised. He often fought the darkness. He struggled and pulled away as much as he could, clinging to Dean for support, only to be turned away. The darkness inside him was like a massive black hole, drawing Sam in and making him weak. He needed to feed into it to keep from going insane. So he did just that. Many nights he spent tangled in the arms of a demon, letting himself be captivated by the inky black pit that lurked inside demon was Crowley… Crowley was glad to feed into Sam's needs. He let Sam take him, kiss him breathless, and drink of his blood. Their relationship was not one of love and romance, but one of deep longing and vehement need.

Sam's lips would tremble when he kissed Crowley's and his tongue tingled when he tasted the hot coppery blood. The dark hunger inside him was met with pure satisfaction. This was how he lived… How he thrived and survived. If he did not have his demon lover Crowley, he'd have been consumed by his greed long ago…

_**Seeking Solace**_

What parts of Sam's body that weren't covered in blood, were sticky with sweat and smudged with dirt. He was tired. He was ready to give up. He was craving demon blood. Most of all, he needed some comfort. He needed warmth. He needed something that felt like home.

Crowley's clothes were singed, and what parts of him that weren't covered in ash, were spattered with blood. He was weary. He was sick of fighting for his life. He was ready to give up. He was craving human contact. Most of all, he wanted to see Sam. He wanted that soft body against his. He wanted something purely human.

Sam leaned against his motel door, panting softly as he fumbled in his pocket for the key. He closed his eyes as he realized it must have been knocked out of his pants during his fight when he slid his fingers through a large hole in the thigh of his jeans that went straight to his pocket. He didn't really know what more to do. His leg was bleeding there, pretty profusely. A hospital was probably a good idea, but right then, he just wanted a bed.

A warm and fluid English accent graced his ears, the voice slightly strained with exhaustion, but none the less comforting to hear.

"Allow me…"

Crowley had appeared beside Sam, his hand moving to the small of the hunter's back as he reached around him and opened the door with ease, the lock snapping open upon Crowley's mental command. Sam sighed in relief, letting himself be lead into the room by the softness of Crowley's touch.

"Long night?" Sam asked gruffly, limping over to a chair and dropping down into it heavily, the chair creaking in protest. Crowley waved his hand and the door snapped shut as he sat across from Sam in the other chair.

"Long week is more appropriate." Crowley responded quietly, his voice calm, but tight with frustration. These days he hardly got a moment's peace. He was constantly on the run, just like Sam was. It seemed that the deeper in they got to this apocalypse, the more alike their situations became.

"Let me fix you up…" Crowley whispered, getting to his feet and approaching Sam, running his fingers over the gash in Sam's leg, and examining the scuffs on his chin and scratches along his chest and arms. Sam hissed a little as Crowley's fingers touched his wound, and he grabbed the demon's hand.

"Only if…" Sam began, waiting for Crowley's eyes to flick up and meet his in the dim motel light. "You promise to stay the night…"

Crowley managed a small smile and leaned up, his lips brushing against Sam's lightly, not quite in a kiss.

"Why do you think I came Sammy boy…?"

Sam reached up and cupped Crowley's face, pulling him in to seal his lips over the demon's own. After such a long night, this was just the kind of comfort they both needed. Crowley kissed him back with a gentleness that was very becoming of the usually hostile demon. Sam broke away only to allow Crowley to pull him to his feet and with a very precise and careful hand, he gently undid the button and fly of Sam's jeans. Down on one knee, the demon ran his fingers fleetingly along Sam's inseam and then slowly pulled the jeans down off Sam's hips, careful to not let it scrape the wound on Sam's thigh. Sam reached down, his fingers gently playing in Crowley's soft hair. He could feel the sweat and the ash clinging to it and sighed. They were both a mess, in need of a good cleaning up, but it was obvious that neither of them truly cared whether or not they got that any time soon. Right now they were just enjoying the quiet warmth of their shared time.

Crowley's touch was so controlled and concise that Sam was more than impressed with him. He stripped Sam down to his boxers and sat him back down, whispering and muttering, holding his hand over Sam's gash. The flesh started to slowly pull itself back together, little strings of fatty tissue and muscle snapping back out in viny tendrils and mending the flesh, leaving a fresh pink scar in it's wake. Sam sighed in relief, the scar tingling with a strangely cool sensation. He reached out and took Crowley's suit jacket by the lapels and pushed it off his shoulders, and Crowley responded by shrugging the material off, followed by his tie, and then, button by button, he opened his shirt. Standing up, Sam took Crowley's hand and guided him over to the bed, and then slipped off his boxers leaving him exposed to the demon's gaze. Crowley intently watched Sam toss back the blankets and sheets as he shed the last of his own clothing. When Sam turned to him, Crowley reached out, slowly running his fingers over Sam's scrapes and scuffs, mending those up with the same soft muttering enchantments. Sam smiled appreciatively and with a very gentle hand, he rubbed Crowley's upper arms, examining the tattoo work that the demon often hid that was on his skin.

Crowley ran his hands up Sam's chest and with a minor push, Sam was sent down onto the bed, where Crowley slipped in and joined him, covering them both. Sam pulled Crowley close, their bodies pressing together and creating intense warmth as they settled into one another's arms. They shared a few soft but fervent kisses, before Crowley nuzzled under Sam's chin and kissed at his neck. Sam's eyes fluttered shut and he gave a content sigh. This was what they'd needed… A few moments of warmth and solace… Nothing and no one else…

Just this…

Just them…

_**Break Away**_

In the dead silence of night Sam slipped into the front seat of an unfamiliar Toyota Camry, hot wired it in a couple minutes, and with that done, he headed out on the road. He had to escape the world, even if just for a little while. He was sick of watching Castiel be Dean's main support. He was sick of being looked at like a monster. He wasn't sure how much more he could possibly apologize for the things he'd done. He was so uncomfortable with his life that he couldn't see any other option than to run away. He had to run far away. Starting a new life all his own. No more hunting, no more anything. Even if it was momentary, just to get away from it all would be… Refreshing.

Sam's eyes watched the endless stretch of road in front of him, the stars above shining down so warmly, and the sandy desert all around making this lonely moment feel all the more empty. There was a hole in his life since Crowley had died… Dean had murdered him, and though Sam knew Dean was just doing what he thought to be the right thing, he resented his brother for it. Crowley had been the last living thing that had understood him and taken him for all he was. Soul or no soul, failures and short-comings, darkness with the light, Crowley let him be exactly what he was and who he was. Now Sam had nothing but a chance. A chance to break the mold he'd been forced into and to get up, dust himself off, carrying on with life in a new way.

He'd seen enough death and done enough sinning to last him an eternity that he'd have to face one day or another, but right now he was going to drive. He was going to drive as far away as he could get. He would hide, start over, be something new, be someone new… There was a gentle nagging voice in the back of his head though… A voice that told him that no matter how hard he tried there were things he couldn't just leave behind. Sam closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, and he gasped as suddenly he felt a familiar pair of lips brush the shell of his ear.

_You can never get rid of the part of me that is in you Sammy… _

That voice made Sam inhale sharply, his eyes snapping back open just in time to see a figure in the road, he didn't have time to swerve and he slammed on his brakes, the visage of Crowley, dressed in an all white suit with an ethereal glow around him was in the road, and Sam drove right through him, the visage dissipating into tendrils of smoke into the air, Crowley's voice and smell filling his senses.

_I will be with you always… No matter how hard you try to break away…_

__Sam's car screeched to a halt and his hands trembled as they slipped off the steering wheel, his head whipping around to look out the rear window, seeing nothing but the long, dark stretch of road behind him…


	3. Chapter 3

_**Better Off Alone**_

The darkness around Sam seemed to be engulfing him, hellfire crackled and shrieks of pain echoed. It was as if the endless corridors of this place were made up of monster souls, endlessly swirling, faces coming to the surface to scream and bemoan their pain. Their teeth snapped at Sam but could not touch him. Their hands reached out to ensnare him but could not grasp him. Then, there at the end of this endless maze, was Crowley. His skin was torn and marred from the pain he was enduring, and it was beyond what Hell ever had to offer. He was weary, and stumbling towards Sam. The hunter ran forward but it felt like an eternity passed before Sam was dropping down to his knees to catch Crowley as he fell.

"Crowley!" Sam's own voice was drowned out by the shrieks and howls, but Crowley seemed to hear him clear as a bell. He lifted a finger to his lips and motioned for quiet and all at once the shrieking stopped and purgatory was at a complete standstill. Sam's throat tightened as he looked over the demon's broken form.

"I'm gonna get you out of here…" Sam said, trying to stand but Crowley gripped his arm tight and shook his head, stopping the hunter in his tracks. Sam swallowed uneasily, tears welling in his eyes as Crowley reached out and gently pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"I told you… I don't need you to fight my battles for me… I'll find my own way out of purgatory…" the demon said quietly, his visage flickering a little as Sam's alarm clock rang loudly in his subconscious, dragging him from his dream.

"No Crowley… I… I'm gonna get you out… I swear it… Cas… What Cas did I just…"

Crowley laughed, and it was quiet but bitter.

"Trust me Sammy boy… You're better off without me anyways… Now wake up… Wake up Sammy…"

_"Sammy! Wake up!"_

Sam shot up from the bed, Dean's hand on his chest pushing him immediately back down.

"Woah, slow down there tiger… You were having a nightmare…" Dean said quietly, patting his brother's chest. "You gonna be okay?"

Sam was shaking from head to toe, a cold sweat shimmering along his brow. Deep down, Sam knew the answer to that question was no… But it was pointless to worry Dean.

"Yeah… Yeah it was just.. Just a weird dream…"


	4. Chapter 4

**In Our Bed**

It never occurred to Sam that there would be a point of no return. it never occurred to him that he would find himself tragically involved like this, yet here he was, his lips parted with silent screams as he dug his way into purgatory. He had to keep going, keep reaching, he had to find the demon he sought out. It felt as if a hundred years had passed, maybe more, but it could have been merely hours… Sam shuddered and shook, every inch of him aching, and begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. He refused.

Where had the demon run to? Where would Crowley go? How far could he travel to escape Castiel's plans?

Where was he? Sam cried out again, still no sound leaving his lips. Frustration and hopelessness both took hold of him. And then, his lungs filled with a hard gasp as he wrenched upward, and reality crashed back into place.

Dark, and quiet, he was safe and sound in his apartment. He'd been having that nightmare again. He had it all too often lately and it seemed to be worsening. How long could they honestly stay hidden? A groan from beside him called for the hunter's attention. He slowly moved his head down to see his dark-haired demon rousing from his own sleep.

"Sam… Bloody hell… Do you have any notion as to the hour? I like thrashing nightmares as much as the next demon but this is getting pretty dated…" Crowley growled, his crankiness showing in his tone. Sam didn't take the sharpness to heart, merely laid back down slowly, pulling Crowley close, pressing their foreheads together.

"I can't help what I dream…" Sam whispered. Crowley sighed heavily and reached up, his fingers carding gently through Sam's hair.

"I know, pet. I know… Just relax and remember that I'm here, and I have no intention of leaving any time soon." Crowley soothed, his thick and smooth accent was like honey and Sam was relaxing again in an instant. He tilted his head in a big and pressed his lips to Crowley's in a soft kiss, finding the demon pliant and ready as always to kiss back. The Crossroads had clearly afforded him plenty of practice. Sam gave a hum of contentment, the nightmarish images slowly leaving his mind as he laid with the demon in quiet and comfort in their little flat.

"You can't leave me… We have a deal…" Sam whispered. Crowley couldn't help the little smirk that came to his lips and he pushed on Sam's shoulder, making him lie flat on his back with ease, his strength never ceasing to catch the hunter by surprise.

"Oh yes… How could I possibly forget it?" Crowley purred, rolling so that he could lie splayed across Sam's broad chest. If there was one thing the demon definitely loved it was the chiseled torso of a strong man, and Sam's was by far, one of the very best he'd ever come across in his many years. He ran his fingers teasingly light over Sam's stomach, watching the very human jump and jerk of the muscles beneath his tickling touch. Sam chuckled quietly, but involuntarily.

"Hey… Watch it." Sam warned, though his tone was calm and not very serious. Crowley pressed a kiss to Sam's chest and then laid his head down once more, closing his eyes.

"Hnn… Whatever you want, darling… Whatever you want…" Crowley mused lazily, his body drifting off again as Sam's fingers found his spine. Sam gently dragged his fingers up and down the demon's back in a soft sort of way that served to lull the demon back to sleep no matter what the circumstances. Sam watched the demon's breathing even out with slumber, and then his hand slid off Crowley's skin to lie against the sheets as he was able to find peace once more, and with that peace, sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Run With Me**

Crowley's shoulders slump a little under the weight of it all. Hiding from some suped-up angel on a power trip has begun to take the inevitable toll. He's resigned to do what he can for as long as he can to preserve his own life. He is of course, a creature of habit, and saving his own skin is one of his only regular rituals. HIding, powerless, like a slug on the underside of a rotting log, he's found a quiet (save for the redneck's fighting two trailers over and the regular sounds of gunfire at 3AM) little corner of the world to bide his time in.

Of course, all that is mucked up when a single summoning spell drags him out of his hideaway and right into a devils trap.

"Bollocks!" the demon hisses under his breath, looking around the seemingly empty hotel room he's found himself in. It's mostly dark, save for the light of some candles by the bed. It's an upscale place, not too rich, but certainly not some squalor little place that one would find the Winchester's frequenting. He curls his fingers briefly into fists before reaching up in a sort of self soothing manner, to rub his hand across an unshaven jaw and down the back of his neck, squeezing his meat-suit's tensed muscles.

"All right. I know you didn't summon me, only to hide your pretty face in the shadows. Come out come out… wherever you are…" Crowley taunted, carefully, quietly, not willing to risk angering whoever, or whatever, may have summoned him. Out of the darkness of a corner of the room steps a tall, shadowy figure, but a recognizable figure at the very least.

"Sam…" Crowley exhales the name, as if somewhat relieved it's only his on-again, off-again secret romance, and not an angel hell bent on his destruction. Still, he feels very exposed outside of his angel-proofed trailer. He can almost sense the clock ticking until Castiel finds him.

"Crowley…" Sam greets quietly, coming closer, stepping into the circle. He reaches out to touch Crowley, but the demon quickly and fluidly pulls his shoulder away from Sam's fingers. He's in no hurry to let Sam touch him, not while still trapped, and Sam seems to know this. From experience, of course.

"I'll let you out if you promise not to run… I just… had to see you." Sam whispers, leaning down and pressing his forehead to Crowley's temple. Crowley turns his head away, pulling carefully out of range.

"I don't want to run Sam, but I haven't got much bloody choice." Crowley admits quietly, terse exasperation weighing his words down. Sam nods and heaves a sigh. Crowley can see the pain in Sam's shadowed features, the lighting making every worry line and sorrow crease on his face stand out intensely.

"I'm having a hard time, Crowley. I… I thought maybe being with you might help…" Sam said, his voice trembling slightly at what he's admitting. "The memories… of the cage… they're bleeding into the real world. Like hallucinations. I'm even seeing… Seeing Lucifer. He says this isn't real that I'm still in the cage with him. I need to know this is real. I need to… I need something normal…"

Crowley takes pity on Sam, having felt a great deal of mixed emotions about the boy since meeting him, he can't help but feel a little trepadatious, yet at the same time, desperate to give in and help.

"Come away with me, Sam. We can run together then." he replies in a hushed tone, almost scared that they're being overheard at that moment. "And I'll keep you firmly rooted in reality… For as long as I can."

Sam grabs Crowley by the shoulders and drags him, somewhat against his will, into a firm kiss, which Crowley hasn't much chance to respond to before Sam is pulling away, and nodding adamantly "Yes". As soon as Sam scratches up the trap and Crowley is no longer bound, he takes Sam's forearm and jerks him close, slipping into darkness and pulling Sam with him, away into hiding. For as long as he can…


End file.
